Margo

On my road trip with the kids in October, I got to turn a Blog World friend into a friend In Real Life. I had lunch with Margo, a frequent commenter on my blog and the writer of a fantastic blog of her own. Our mutual friend, Rebecca, introduced us to one another in the blogworld and now we feel quite informed about the other because we each faithfully read one another.

Margo is a homemaker whom I admire because she is no-nonsense, methodical, and has a Depression-era Granny's sensibility regarding make-do and thrift. While I congratulate myself for buying clothes off the sale rack, Margo makes friends with Women of a Certain Age, who retire from sewing and give her their fabric stashes. Then she makes adorable clothes for her children for Absolutely Free! I feel like an accomplished haus frau because I decide at 4:00 PM to cook dinner for my family and make a meal out of staples in the pantry, while she plans her menus a week at a time, journals it all faithfully, and markets for them with intention.

On the day of our meeting, Rebecca and I stopped at a simple Mom and Pop grocery for contributions for lunch, which Margo then hosted with aplomb. It was so comfortable to gather with all our children and Margo's husband around the dining room table in her city rowhouse. What hospitality! I never felt like the New Friend or Third Wheel. We talked easily and shared secret chocolate after we sent the children away to the neighborhood park. Rebecca had brought along new buttons for her fabulous vintage coat. When she sponged needle and thread from Margo's supplies, Margo whipped out the quilt she had in process and they did handwork while I watched cathartically.

As we chatted, I started thinking that it was fascinating how Margo has educated herself in the home arts. True, she was raised by a hardworking, Mennonite momma who kept a proper spic-and-span home and taught Margo how to be a hospitable joy to guests. And she did so while following her passion to earn a college degree and begin a career in a time and community where that Simply Was Not Done. But Margo's passion is, for sure, homemaking and much of it she taught herself. As much as I respect and try to emulate the way our foremothers did things, Margo is in a higher reading group than I.

Margo really is a wiz with finances and there probably should be a blog post on just that, but, frankly, it just doesn't interest me. Dear Margo, new friend though she may be, felt free to give me a mild scolding when I confessed I'd be lost financially if I happen to outlive Mike. No, what I found most interesting was her passion and determination to learn the art of homemaking. When I asked her about it, she said she'd always been a nester and that even as a child, she played house and made order from chaos.

In college, Margo felt a sort of primal urge to get out of the dorm and into an apartment with friends. Living in this setting, she could cook, clean, maintain some order and feel the sanctuary of Coming Home at the end of each day. When she told her then-fiance that she wanted to stay at home, he didn't question it. Together they bought a home with income-earning apartments within to help make her dream possible. So important is her job at home to her that the promise of a Sanctuary Home was a part of their wedding vows! I think Margo's following quote helps to define the picture of that type of home: "I love to send my family out into the world warm, fed, loved, and on time. And then I love to welcome them back with a good-smelling house, home-cooked meals, and a soothing presence (well, I'm not always nice - but that's what I aim for)."

As much as she thrived in the home, she found that having a husband challenged her to become 1) a better cook, 2) more skilled at organization as two entities merged their stuff and two souls merged their lifestyles, and, 3) a true manager of a the real finances of a real household on a budget. When Margo and her Mister added children to the household, new needs added new routines, such as increased order since children thrive when their enviroments are comfortable and reliable. She also desires to give her children nutritious food at every meal so again, she stepped up her game in the kitchen.

The Evolution of a Homemaker is a huge topic, one I'm not sure is served well in one measly blog post. I think Margo sets herself apart in her work ethic and can-do attitude. When she recognized the benefits of nesting in college, she found a nest in which to roost. When she had babies who needed her on their own schedule, she didn't shrug and resign herself to undone work, she figured out how thrive in the new normal. If you'd like to be inspired and learn a ton, check out her blog and, through it, get to know my friend, Margo.

You Know the World...

I'm on a little road trip with my kids. They are on a brief break from school and the opportunity presented itself to go visit some friends. (Look for some more interviews coming!)

A scrapbooking friend of mine has asked me a few times if I thought scrapbooking would get me and my girls through some tough days of adolescence ahead. She noticed her own pre-teen daughter wanting to sit down next to her mom whenever the scrapbooking supplies were out. They would work on their projects together and the daughter would get chatty. I didn't really see the same thing happening with my girls, though they like to craft, too.

No, I think travel seems a more likely "refresh button" for my relationships with my kids. We get trapped together without so many of our usual distractions. We talk and laugh, rest and play. If I can afford it, I hope their remaining growing up years will include lots of little getaways with me and their dad.

I've been thinking of a quote from Haven Kimmel's "She Got Up Off the Couch." I'm on the road now without my copy of the book... I tried Googling the quote and couldn't find it. Pre-teen Zippy was taken by her mother to see a highbrow play on the campus of the big university - a very strange and stretching experience for such a young and uncivilized girl. Later, Zippy realized that her mom was trying to give her new experiences and make her world bigger than just their hometown of 300.

We love OUR little small town, but I think we improve it when it's colored by the rich experiences of it's inhabitants. I think it looks sweeter when we can see it's contrast against other settings. Our citizens seem less homogenized when we recognize the dynamic personalities that were trees lost in the forest of intimacy.

And when I bump the horizons a little further east or west, I say to my children, as Zippy's mom said to her, "Why, it's just the world. You know the world.'

The Mouths of Babes

An acquaintance of mine inspired me recently. Last spring break, her older daughter went on a school marine biology trip to Florida. She took her younger daughter - Brooks' age - for a few days in New York City. Just mother and daughter. I loved the idea.

Since Michael doesn't care to visit NYC, I thought it might be nice to do shorter trips with individual kids over the years. I'm planning Brooks' trip for during some break in this school year.

Ava has been asking questions about why it might be desireable to go to such a big city. Finally, she asked, "But isn't it, you know, DANGEROUS there?" What did she mean by dangerous, you might ask? I DID ask and was told that that particular city has gangsters and mobs.

I feel 90% humored and 10% saddened by this.

The Great American Road Trip - Part 8

From Deadwood, we had only to drive an hour or so to the Custer area, where we could take in Mount Rushmore and the Crazy Horse monument in progress. We started the day at 5:30 in the morning with a big splurge - a hot air balloon ride over the Black Hills of South Dakota.



Our pilot picked us up in a parking lot across from our hotel. Our balloon was going up in a basket built for twelve. Besides the old balloon captain, our companions were an older couple and a family of three. We drove out to an empty field in the country where we were met by a team ready to help us get off the ground and chase us to our touchdown location - destination unknown.



It took only about 20 minutes to get from parking the van to being in the air. I couldn't believe how quickly it inflated.



There was another balloon excursion getting started in the same field. The inflation process was a good-natured race between the two teams and we won.



Once the balloon was upright, they wasted no time in ordering us into the basket.



I looked over with concern at my shivering family. I felt judgement for being a poor mom who doesn't dress her children warmly enough for the chill of the morning. We climbed in anyway, while I resigned myself to being too cold.



I needn't have worried. The flames were blasted to raise us to many hundreds of feet. The flames stopped and we just floated often, but we sank quickly, too, and that caused the flames to blast some more. Every time there was flame, I felt the part in my hair burning from above. We were not too cold.


Check out these views.



I love the way the light filtered through the mist.



Often we spotted a deer or two, who looked up at us with wonder. Until the flames blasted. Then they scampered away. The blaster was loud as well as hot.



One woman in our party nervously asked about our captain's qualifications. He told her that there were only about four balloonists in the world with more hours in the air than him. When they filmed "Dances With Wolves" the overhead shots of the herd of bison running were filmed from his balloon. Very impressive.



Did I mention Sophia is afraid of heights?



I asked her in advance if she would be too afraid, but she gave her blessing. I thought she did great. I was proud of her.



Did I mention the view was incredible?



Our original goal for landing was a field a little nearer than the one we ended up in. A gust of wind blew us out of position and our balloon pilot chose another one a little further away. Yay - our ride was extended by ten minutes!



I think the balloonist was in the practice of scoping out the biggest guy in the party and as we began our descent, he instructed Mike to take a rope and walk far away from the balloon once we had landed. The idea was to let the deflating balloon come to rest neatly and not on top of the passengers!



It took a little bit for the balloon to completly deflate and while it did so, some of the rest of us noticed in the treeline about 150 yards away from us - A Herd. Of. Bison. Now I have no idea if this was a bison ranch or if the fenced in pasture was so large that it just happened to include lots of random wildlife, including bison, but we did know that bison are inpredictable and dangerous. We laughed nervously and photographed awhile. Meanwhile our wise and crusty old codger of a balloon pilot looked quickly for an escape.

"C'mon, folks," he hollered and started trotting to the barbed wire fence.

A few more photographs until The Old Guy insisted that we move. I pointed out that my husband was still standing there obediently holding the rope of the flat balloon.

A quick glance backward by The Old Guy. Stops and cups his hands to his mouth. "C'mon, buddy!" Scamper, scamper, scamper.

Our team waited for us on the other side of the barbed wire fence and helped us all weasel between the barriers. I tell you, these guys (and one leathery woman) were such renegades. Instead of making me homesick for tidy, polite church-goers, as rough people often do, they just cracked me up. They seemed like cheerful pirates to me.

We piled back into the van and headed back to our meeting place. At some point on the way, we met up with the other balloon with another team in another field. That captain asked ours where his balloon was (still in the bison-infested field).

"Still in the field," said TOG. "We have to, uh, get the key." (Use wire cutters.)

Knowing glances and chuckles between the captains and their crews of pirates.

Continuing on our drive, I asked if they ever get into trouble with the property owners.

The woman answered, "Oh, sometimes they're not too happy, but really the law is on our side. It's just like with airplane pilots. If we have to land on their property to get you down safely, we have to."



Back at the parking lot, TOG got out a Tupperware container of fresh muffins and cheese, popped a cork of champagne and offered this toast:

"May the winds welcome you with softness.
May the sun bless you with its warm hands.
May you fly so high and so well that God
joins you in laughter and sets you gently
back into the loving arms of Mother Earth."

Amen.



Oh yeah, here's Mount Rushmore



And Crazy Horse. Can you see the outline of the horse's head on the side of the mountain?

The Journey Home:

As was our custom on this trip, we were as interested in the journey as the destination. We stopped at a couple of kitschy tourist spots on the way home. The first was Wall Drug. It started as nothing special - a family-owned drug store that was struggling to stay afloat during the Depression. Mrs. Wall persuaded her husband to consider advertising as a way to get people into the store. She felt that weary travelers on the dusty roads of South Dakota would stop in if they were promised the refreshment of free ice water at Wall Drug. They began putting up billboards and, indeed, people did come.

The store has grown to fill a whole city block and the spread of their billboards have stretched all around the globe. In fact, at home later this summer, we were driving on a stretch of road we don't often travel and there, on the side of a barn, was a hand painted sign that said, "Wall Drug - 917 miles - Free Ice Water."



They still serve free ice water to weary travelers.



Just a bit further down the road is the Corn Palace. I'd heard of it. A structure built in 1921, complete with regal onion domes, they display the fruits of the Great Plains in brand new murals each year. The murals are made of corn. What I didn't know was that it was a giant sports arena on the inside. Special sporting contests are held there as well as concerts and other entertainment events. On the day we were there, the basketball floor was filled with craft and souvenir booths.



So you can get a sense of how the murals are made....



Here is a close-up....



Of one of the interior murals.



Our final important stop on the way home was DeSmet, SD. Do you recognize the name of this town? I'm thinking that if you were a girl who grew up in the '70's and '80's, you probably read the Little House on the Prairie series. I surely did and De Smet is the name of the town where the Ingalls family finally settled. It was the site of the books On the Shores of Silver Lake, The Long Winter, Little Town on the Prairie and These Happy Golden Years.

DeSmet has a festival each summer to celebrate their heritage and the adventures of their most famous former resident, but we landed in their town on the wrong day to experience it. However, they do give a tour and offer a glimpse at some of the buildings of interest to those who love the Ingalls family.



Mike and Brooks were too tired to take in the tour, but I did read The Long Winter aloud on the drive home and all enjoyed it. I was especially tickled at how much interest Mike had in it - he had never read the books. The little museum/store is right next to the Surveyors' House (pictured above), where the family spent the winter after Pa's work for the railroad in By the Shores of Silver Lake. A couple of the historic buildings had been relocated to this area.



Another building was the schoolhouse in town where Laura met Mary Power and Cap Garland. It had been relocated to the museum neighborhood only fairly recently. Up to that time, it had been used as a private home for years. There were strips on the wall showing where partition walls had been and then been torn down. There was wallpaper on some of the walls. It had only been partly removed because, once the removal process was started, the original blackboards were found along with some chalk writing and drawings! They were waiting to raise the funds for the very expensive archival wallpaper removal that would leave the chalk markings unharmed.



Above is a picture of an Ingalls home which I don't think was ever mentioned in the books. Pa reneged on his homestead outside of DeSmet and this is the home in town which he moved the family to after the failure. Laura was already a married woman and never lived in this house.

I was introduced to the Little House series in 1977. I was in first grade and an early reader. My dear teacher, Mrs. Kurtz, walked by my desk at reading time one day and just placed Little House in the Big Woods on the corner of my desk without a word. I devoured the series that year. I now call it my "gifted and talented education." It was a complete thrill to walk in the places where Laura walked.

And thus concludes one of the spiffiest vacations I've had lo these many years.

Great American Road Trip - Part 7

Saying goodbye to Yellowstone -



Yellowstone is such feast of beauty and our final day provided us fitting dessert to sustain us until we can visit again. We drove to the trailhead up to Artist Point and walked a short distance up some massive, gorgeous stone steps to this lookout point. More than once I was impressed by the foresight of the folks who designed and built this first national park. They had no way of knowing how many people would come, or IF they would come, but the buildings and structures they created seem to still be functional for the huge crowds that come today.

This final family photo is at the lookout over The Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. The waterfall in the background is the same one Brooks and I took in on our "Stairmaster Hike" the previous day. Really, really spectacular views.

We also got the chance to take in the interior of one of the magnificent historic hotels, the Old Faithful Inn. Check out the shade on one of the double-sided writing desks, furnishing the inn ever since 1911. The green shade has an overlay of copper featuring an owl in the woods.



I just think this is a pretty picture of Ava gazing out of a window on the second floor landing of the inn.



After the last of the sightseeing within the park, we still got to enjoy one last pretty drive along the winding road to the exit. We saw a creature that we hadn't yet spotted on our trip - a deer. And I cannot BELIEVE how close she let me get.



After a few hours of driving we landed at Devil's Tower for a stretch, a potty break and some photos. This is when I began wishing that we would have taken this northern route on the way TO Yellowstone. Our energy was simply waning too quickly to be wowed by some of these last sites. Here are Ava and I in front of Devil's Tower. Can you see tiny pastel-shirted specks above us? Rock Climbers. Crazy.



Next, a few MORE hours of driving. We were heading toward the gold rush town of Deadwood and we'd heard of a restaurant I wanted to try in the neighboring town of Spearfish. We got a little turned around in the canyon and by the time we got there it was 10:00 PM. That made it midnight on Home Time. It was probably the best meal we had during the whole trip. Michael and I both had a delicious seafood bisque and he followed it up with a buffalo burger. Our server was very attentive. He seemed to think we were locals, but when I told him we were from Indiana, he said he was familiar with that long drive as he made it every summer of his childhood. His mother's parents were from a tiny town in the center of the state.

"What town?" I asked.

"Hartford City." My mother's hometown where I visited grandparents and cousins every summer of MY childhood! Our waiter was my best friend after that. I just love that feeling of community it prompted for the two of us.



Tatanka - Story of the Bison.

Sigh. I cannot really recommend this museum-type place in Deadwood. It is promoted as an educational site for learning about the American Buffalo, which centers around these beautiful cast-iron sculptures depicting a thrilling, dangerous way that the Lakota tribe used to hunt these creatures.


A few of the tribesmen would spook a herd of buffalo, chasing a few of them stampeding over the edge of a cliff, at the bottom of which other Lakota were waiting to butcher them.



It turned out to be fairly hostile presentation on the wrongs done against the Native American people. (We were told with an unfriendly smirk that Native American is too broad a term to use and is not the right choice. We were not told what might be the right choice.)



Now, I feel I must say that the historical truth in this matter is absolutely shameful and nothing can undo the violence, greed and trickery done to our brothers and sisters. However, I believe if one wants Change, and one wants to Educate People, then one needs to present their case without pushing their audience away. My less progressive husband drove our family to my chosen destination and paid his money to get us all in without complaint, but without much interest. His attitude became less charitable when the artwork was presented as an afterthought to a hostile speaker making sweeping generalities about "you people" (his white audience) while my bewildered young children blinked up at him. Sigh.



But aren't the sculptures pretty?



A worthwhile destination for Mike and me was the Mount Moriah cemetery. Mike is a history buff and thought it was cool to see the final resting places of folks like Wild Bill Hickock, Calamity Jane and Preacher Smith. I am not a history buff, and what I know about these characters I learned from the brilliantly written but completely barbaric HBO series "Deadwood." Do you think less of me? Nevertheless, it was cool to tour. It was also exhausting. I have no idea who thought of placing the cemetery there, requiring the hauling of Dead Weight (ha ha) up such a steep slope. It is a "mount" after all.

I know this series is dragging on, especially after the huge break between this post and the previous. The end of our trip was too significant to omit, so there will be one last post, which I'll start now. I have other things I want to share with you, including more garden produce preservation and an interview with a new, and surprisingly proficient bread baker.

Stay tuned.

Great American Road Trip - Part 6

Norris/Tower-Roosevelt/Old Faithful

When planning excursions within our vacation I knew there was one which was a must, just for the joy it would bring one family member. Ava is a lover of animals like no other. She was given a summer of horse riding lessons as a birthday gift last year and was over the moon with glee. Horseback rides were offered in a couple of different locations on our route and we took advantage of the Roosevelt Corrals in the northern part of YNP.

Our first attempt at a ride was thwarted by heavy winds. When we were told the ride was being cancelled, this child, who ran ahead of us from the van to the corral, was a bit disappointed. I was glad we had time to reschedule it the next day. We were a part of a group of 20 riders and we were asked if we had ever been on a horse before and how experienced we were with horses. I was among the most experienced (Most had not even been on a horse before, lest you be too impressed.) and I felt utterly confident that I would be able to handle anything a ride for city dwellers would offer. However, this country girl was humbled by a belligerent horse who stopped to graze every time he lost interest in the trail, which was often. I nearly popped a blood vessel trying to wrestle him into submission throughout the ride.

These rock formations are called "hoodoos." Often hoodoos look like faces. These hoodoos aren't the best example of that characteristic, but they distinguished themselves be being very different from the surrounding smooth cliffside. The kids admired them from the comfort of the van, but Mike and I climbed around together for fifteen minutes or so.

Later Brooks and I had our own climbing adventure. The girls had been working toward getting their Junior Ranger badges and needed to attend a ranger-led lecture or activity. While they went to their lecture Brooks and I headed to the trails to get a great view of the Lower Falls, via "Uncle Tom's Trail." The original trail was forged by Tom Richardson in 1898 and now involves a few paved trails at the top and then a series of 300+ steel grate stairs which loses you more than 500 feet of altitude.



The trip down is easy and the trip up is difficult, for obvious reasons. I think I read somewhere that it was 350 steps down and 1025 steps up - when you factor in the extra effort at 8000 feet altitude. All I know is that, whatever direction we were headed, Brooks charged ahead and sighed mightily when I had to stop to rest.


We noticed a rainbow in the spray of the waterfall when we neared the bottom of the steps.


We had a beautiful view of the whole falls and some great bonding time for me and my boy. It was hard to climb back up, but the whole hike was done for us in about 45 minutes. It's manageable for people in reasonably good health and we recommend it to anyone planning to visit the park.

When we got back from our hike, the girls had completed their ranger lecture and thereby finshed all of the requirements to get their Junior Ranger badge. I was so glad that they did this activity. I knew Ava would enjoy the process, but I was pleased to see Sophie dig into it with the gusto she showed.

Here they are being solemn and taking the oath, promising to follow the rules of the park and to do what they could to preserve the parks throughout their lives.

Our friendly old ranger found a proper chapeau to preserve the moment in our photos.